Mandalor the Wise
by Tech Jammer
Summary: A diplomatic delegate from the New Republic comes face to face with the enigmatic Mandalore the Wise of Clan Djarin who has single-handedly reunited the Mandalorians as a people and a restored their place as a power in the greater galactic scene. (One-Shot based on The Mandalorian TV series)


Fair warning to everyone here I have only a general amount of lore of Star Wars canon and legends as you probably already know from my user pic that my jam is Warhammer 40k. However because I liked the Mandalorian so much and as a refresher after an unannounced hiatus on my primary story "Heirs of the Old One" I wanted to do this a late Christmas and New Years gift for everyone in this community.

Remember this is just a fan vision of how the Mandalorian will end. So even if it gets debunked it's just a piece I wanted to do and share with you all. : )

Hope you like it.

_It is on these grounds my father reclaimed our people's honor._

_It is on this land I laid my father to rest._

_It is on this world I knew where I belonged._

_It is by our creed we will forever rule, until the final star in the void breathes its last._

_This is the way...so I have spoken._

**Excerpt from the Day of Ascension of Mandalore the Wise**

Gideon Antaro regretted everything. He regretted taking this assignment. He regretted not taking the time to learn the bone broth noodle soup recipe he wanted to make. If he survives, he was going to quit his job and finally pursue his dream of the culinary arts and open his own noodle restaurant. Where he will one day master the art and patrons all over the galaxy will fight over a seat to sample his cooking.

Again, if he survives.

He could feel the cold sweat perspiring from his brow. He couldn't see it, even with his eyes crossed inwards, but he could feel it crawling over the bridge of his nose before it drips towards its journey to the floor.

A three seconds long journey down…

He watched it fall. The innocent little spec of terrified perspiration fall down on the red carpet of the throne room.

The Mand'alor's throne room. Hundreds and thousands of eyes watched with smug satisfaction at his current predicament. Either from the ruling clan heads in the room or from those watching from the live feed of the camera droids outside; They watched with eager anticipation of soon to be procession between the diplomatic delegate of New Republic and their leader Mandalore the Wise, now that they had their fill of seeing the outsider squirm in his 'unconventional' place after the insult he threw in his face.

Granted it was minor and he had brushed it off with but an audible jolly chuckle echoing from beneath his Beskar helmet. But the Mandalor had a peculiar sense of humor.

After his moment of laughter, it all but took a flick of his finger to send Gideon from the floor and slam right into the ceiling. Where he remained there for a good ten minutes to sweat.

"Tell me Gideon Antaro, how is the view from up there?" asked the diminutive form of Mandalor the Wise.

Fully dressed in beskar, the Mandalor made for a cutting image sitting upon the throne of his predecessors. The Darksaber ever at his side, with the signet of Clan Djarin proudly emblazoned on the chest piece of his cuirass and on the standard banner hanging above for all to see. The signet of the Mudhorn he and his father earned after many trials early in his upbringing so long ago.

This was not the first he has been looked down upon because of his height. He admitted it was annoying -nay- aggravating when he was still but a young and foolish 'womp rat', but as he came of age he learned to look at it on the brighter side when he was 98. The clashing dichotomy of using humor and force has served him well to earn the respect and loyalty of his rivals.

Gideon was happy he did his business this morning or he would have surely soiled himself with his piss, and he was sure that the Mandalorians would not be happy.

However his moment of happiness was outweighed by the crushingly terrifying gravity of the revelation his situation currently landed himself in. He thought that with the resurgence of Mandalore's rise from its erstwhile ruin, its leader would have a peaceful open dialogue for the future of galactic civility.

Again he regretted volunteering for this assignment and should have let some other poor soul take this assignment.

Look where it led him, his supposed chance to gain renown and standing. Stuck to the cold stone ceiling with an invisible weight slowly crushing him. Every breath losing precious life giving air his lungs trying desperately to take in.

"Perhaps you have hard of hearing Gideon or mayhaps I should loosen my grip." Mandalor dropped his finger, and Gideon felt the sweet relief of air rushing in. His now re energized heart and brain quickly formed the words that were automatically formed from his terror.

"I am sorry your excellency! I have wronged you! Please put me down! I have seen the error of my ways! Please!" Tears that he did not know he held back surged from his eyes as he pleaded for his life with every word that spewed out his lips.

Mandalor the Wise nodded his head acknowledgement.

"Apology accepted dignitary Gideon." Mandalore bid the Force to gently lower Gideon from his harrowing experience. Like the most delicate of cotton Gideon floated back ever closer to the ground. His back left the cold stone of the ceiling, his rattled emotions were conflicted from the previously jarring experience of being slammed to the ceiling to being slowly put back down.

He felt his body position itself to a standing form. Where his feet solidly felt the ground. Yet when the Force finally released its grip on him, Gideon crumbled like a doll. The terror inflicted left him with weakened knees, his breathing ragged and his thoughts in turmoil.

So scared he was he didn't even register his security escort knocked out and prone on the ground.

Though his thoughts were still gripped in the throes of fear one fact remained at the forefront.

The current leader of the Mandalorians; Mandalor the Wise, is a wielder of the Force. This revelation shook him to the core. Was the current ruler, a practitioner of the Light Side Jedi or the Dark Side Sith?

"Neither dignitary."

Gideon paused as his breathing hitched. Did Mandalor read his thoughts?

"Yes."

Thoughts again swirled in a storm of chaos, questions coming and going faster than he could process were all jumbling about at the danger he was in. He was vulnerable, he was weakened he was about to di-.

"**Stop that right now Gideon.**" Mandalore spoke through the Force and voiced it directly into his head. Gideon's frantic thoughts stopped and did as he was told. He took a breath and calmed down. His knees were still weak, but he took a moment to stop and focused on the rhythm of his breath.

"Good. Now rise and stand dignitary." Mandalor nodded in approval to the dignitary's color rapidly returning from his pallor. "We are on Mandalor. We do not bow, we stand and look each other in the eye and let our bodies speak for us." He gave his smaller form a quick gesture of his hand. "Some woefully needing more than others of course."

Everyone chuckled beneath their helmets. More than one Mandalorian in the room have once in their life made jests on Mandalor's height being no taller than their thighs but they learned that sometimes, big things can come in small packages.

And nothing was bigger to the Mandalorians, trueblood or foundling. Than the restoration of their people as a whole. First their homeworld and then their moon of Concordia. The once seemingly unassuming Mandalorian who led a personal crusade after taking the reigns of leadership from his father Mandalor the Redeemer formerly known as Din Djaren. Blood was shed as much as mercy was given. The longevity of the current Mandalore allowed the vision of his remain strong and unswayed. When time came for them to reunite the fractured clans scattered across the stars, only one message was heard and made sure to be kept secret from their reunification.

"Come home."

And home to Mandalore did everyone who swore to the creed did, and renewed their oaths to the umbral light of the Darksaber.

Gideon slapped his peach skinned face a few times to get his adrenaline in check and ruffled out his black hair, as he struggled to stand.

"Was that really necessary?" He snapped to Mandalor the Wise. Ignoring the heated glares of everyone present in the room targeting him with superheated fire.

Mandalore raised his green and calloused tri-clawed hand. Years of action leathered his body to master the way of a Mandalorian warrior. This gesture silenced any thoughts of immediate violence toward the New Republic delegate. But more importantly this act of kindness was a silent acknowledgment of Mandalor seeing Gideon as a fellow individual.

"A test if you will humor me delegate Gideon." Mandalore looking straight into Gideon unabashed by his actions. All while still sitting leisurely on the stone throne.

"What sort of test?" Gideon asked all the while massaging his legs to get the muscles to listen to him.

"To see if you have a spine." Mandalore supplied the answer to his question.

"Did I pass?" Gideon asked quizically. Shaking but otherwise becoming steadier every passing second.

"Not yet. You have yet to say your piece on what the New Republic wants with Mandalore."

Mandalore the Wise swept his hand across the room and in turn, to all the Mandalorians on the planet.

"So speak Gideon Antaro of the New Republic. What do they want from us to send you here?"

Ever word spoke with an overwhelming sense of weight. Right down to the demand of getting the answer of the New Republic's sudden interest in Mandalore.

Gideon swallowed spit and knew he had to be very careful. It was going to be a long day.

AN: Hey there did this short piece for you all. Hope you enjoy it, it will be a two-part series since I couldn't finish what I wanted to type before New Years here or edited proper;y. Hope you all enjoyed it and don't worry, I will get back to my main story.

Hope you are well and safe, Merry belated Christmas, and have a Happy New Year.


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